Curls and Sissy Love Hoodie, Bubby
by Fallen Leafs
Summary: Kenny's house burned down. Luckily, his three best friends started the Kenny Fund two years ago. Close quarters lead to awkward situations lead to weird conversations... And aren't Kyle and Stan, y'know, together? Fluff, romance, angst, humor... Stylenny!
1. Prologue: My Own Battles

Alrighty then, my name is Fallen. This is meant as a stress-reliever and a time-killer... and hopefully a joy-bringer. I want ideas for cute habits and scenes, you get me? Onward!

**Prologue: My Own Battles**

**How to Protect Kenny**

**Step One:_ Admit That Kenny Needs Protecting..._**

"It's fine." Kenny mumbled, a blush rising to his cheeks as he tightened his hood to hide the bruise across his jaw. It was dark blue and purple, like an angry storm. He stared out at Stark's pond absently, not meeting Kyle's eyes.

"It's not nothing, jackass. It's a fuckin' bruise." Cartman scoffed, punching Kenny's parka-clad arm. Kenny hissed, yanking his arm back and sending Eric a baleful glare.

Stan's voice wobbled with restrained anger and grief. He hated when people hurt his friends (and honestly didn't handle it very well). "Your arm... Is h-hurt. Where else, Kenny?"

Subconsciously, Kenny pressed a mitten-clad palm gingerly against his stomach. Quickly, Eric grasped his wrists in a way that wasn't really forceful but had the potential to force easily; Kenny relented, allowing his hands to be drawn away from his body.

Stan unzipped the parka while Kenny watched on in apathy, used to physical interrogations like this. (Once, he'd ended up walking home in his boxers and one sock, but that's another story.) Kyle pulled up his shirt and Kenny shut his eyes against his friends' shocked gasps. Eric swore violently under his breath.

Horrific, impossible, swollen bruises throbbed as they met the cool fall air.

"Kenny, I swear to god, if you even TRY to get up for school tomorrow, I'll ductape you to the bed." Stan threatened, not looking up to see his reaction.

Kyle sighed tiredly. "Ike's gone to smart kid school for a week, some TIP meeting thing for the ACT. Go... Go sleep in his room. We'll be there in an hour."

Kenny's fingers fluttered about in the air for a moment, unsure as to how to react to being ordered to go to bed. However, at the sight of Eric's warning glare, he consented and stood, zipping up his parka and reassuring himself that he wasn't following orders... He was just tired and humoring his friends.

Kenny huffed and pouted and was on his way, limp showing slightly in his angry stalk. The trio stared after him quietly, silent for several moments after Kenny had disappeared.

"That's the most fucked up kid I know." Eric muttered scornfully. "He needs help."

"Well," Stan replied brightly, standing up and brushing non-existent dirt off his pants, "We're the only ones who care enough to, so that's our job." Kyle snorted. "Yay. I'm now officially the caretaker and guardian of a fourteen year old basketcase."

Eric promptly cuffed him over the back of his head. "You kidding me? I've been pounding bullies for him for years now. Join the club. I gotta go pick of Sarah, guys, from preschool. So, screw you guys, I'm getting my baby."

So, flipping the Super-Best Friends off over his shoulder, Cartman left as well.

"Sometimes I wonder if he's a good friend or a horrible one."

_**...And Decide You're the Guy for the Job**_

**Step Two:_ Let Your Charge Know He Needs You..._**

Kenny kept his eyes trained diligently on his beat-up sneakers as he tried to make it away from the school in time. In his haste, he ran headlong into precisely what he was running from. Such was the fate of an ill-fated soul, he supposed.

Moaning in displeasure, Kenny rose his eyes slowly to peer into the coffee-colored irises staring threateningly down at him.

"Thought you could run, Parka-Boy? What are you hiding under that hood, anyway? Green skin? Warts and boils? Scars from your mummy and daddy beating you?" he sneered his usual insults, nothing was ever original with him. Kenny winced, recalling that, indeed, there was a fading scar just below his eye from his mother's wedding ring.

"Well, brat, you can't run from me." Predictably, Kenny was shoved against the wall harshly, smacking his head against the wall with a thump. The smaller male groaned, lifting a hand to gingerly touch the point of impact. There was blood on his fingertips when he brought them close for inspection, but Kenny didn't worry.

Head-wounds always bleed a lot.

The jock's fist collided with his jaw abruptly, and with a yelp of pain, Kenny wondered what, exactly, he done to piss the older male off.

"Come on, Tommy..." Kenny murmured, voice muffled, "I don't want to fight."

"Oh, but I do." Tommy growled, pressing closer and drawing his fist back again. Kenny could smell traces of alcohol on his breath and vaguely wondered what he was doing drunk at two thirty in the afternoon _at school._

Instead of landing another punch, the coffee-eyed boy tugged his hood down and Kenny cowered back in shame.

Tommy snorted. "You're _pretty_. Like some sort of _girl_. Like a fag. You some sort of broad, _bitch_?"

"That's funny..." Kenny nearly melted in his relief. Never before had he been so happy to hear Eric's scathing drawl. "I thought 'broad' was a '50s term. You some sort of greaser?"

Tommy spun around, one hand still pressed against Kenny's sternum, the other still poised to punch. "What are you blabbering about, fatass?"

Eric smirked. "You've even got your hair greased back. Perfect. Unfortunately for you, I happen to be a Soc. And you know what happens when a greaser messes with a Soc's friend, don't you?"

Tommy let Kenny go, turning towards Eric with mock curiosity in his eyes. "Oh? No, I don't. Care to fill me in, fatass?"

_Snap._

Tommy and Kenny froze in shock. Eric casually relaxed his fist and shoved his hand in his pocket. Tommy, head snapped painfully to the side, raised a trembling hand to his bloodied nose, before shrieking in pain and rage.

"You broke my nose, motherfucker!"

Eric, taking advantage of Tommy's shock, stepped around him to grab Kenny by the arm, tugging him away unhurriedly.

...

Eric, following the Sarah's-First-Word incident, had vowed to become the best big brother in the world. And honestly, he was making damn-good progress. But it wasn't something he could consciously switch on and off. It still unnerved the other three boys in the quartet when Eric went full-on big brother mode on them.

Quietly, Kenny admitted to himself that he liked the attention. Kevin had never tried to care for him this way.

Eric was all-business when he pulled his smaller friend into a quiet alley.

"You're bleeding..." he murmured, walking behind Kenny. He jumped as Eric's cold fingers met the back of his head, tenderly parting long golden locks to examine the split skin on his scalp.

Spinning Kenny around, Eric examined the blossoming bruise on his jaw. Smirking, the larger of the two leaned back. "You'll live."

"Oh, good. I was worried." Kenny replied sarcastically, yawning. "And really? The Outsiders?"

Eric grinned crookedly and nodded contently. "Of course. I gotta go get Sweetheart-I mean, JoJo. Go to Stan's and let him and the Jew go all mother-hen on you."

Eric paused, smiling quietly at Kenny. "You know, he was right. You get prettier every time I see you without your hood, man. You could pass for a girl. However..." His expression grew serious, "That might be the gayest thing I've ever said, and if you tell anybody I said it, I'll kill you."

"Got it. I can fight my own battles, though. You don't need to save me."

Eric smirked. "Sure you can."

_**...But Let Him Think He Doesn't**_

**Step Three:_ Heal His Wounds and Clean Him Up..._**

Kenny snorted angrily and flipped his hood up, mumbling about fatasses poking their noses where they most certainly don't belong, unconsciously following said fatass's orders and directing himself to Stan's house, tromping diligently through the fresh two inches of snow.

Kenny brought his fingers back up to the needing cut on his scalp and cursed. There was a ridiculous amount of blood coming out... Nothing serious, but it would scare the shit out of Stan.

He continued to feel around the somewhat-deep, non-fatal wound as he approached the doorstep, raising his unoccupied hand to the sturdy wood and knocking three times.

Absently, Kenny removed his hand from the bleeding wound to inspect the smeared, half drying and half new blood. The blond loosened his hood to expose most of his face as the lock clicked, instinctively beginning to lick the blood away as he stared up expectantly to where his friends should appear.

...

Kyle opened the door, an automatic friendly smile forming on his face, only to have his prepared polite greeting to die on his suddenly dry tongue.

Kenny was staring up at him, bright blue eyes peering through long lashes, small, tempting pink tongue lapping away at his fingers, blood smearing across his cold-reddened lips and _holy motherfucking shit-_

Stan inhaled sharply beside him.

"Kenny, don't _do_ that! You look like some sort of-of... Like something out of a perverse Porno! Wait, is that _blood_? Oh my god, you're bleeding!" Stan screeched, ever the over-honest over-dramatizer. Kenny, to his credit, stopped immediately, a thick blush rising to his bruised cheeks.

"S'not that bad, head wounds-ack!" Kenny cut himself off with a startled yelp as he was tugged into the house, half-dragged to Stan's room, and forced to sit on the bed as Kyle pulled off his Parka.

Kyle moaned unhappily and Stan gasped as they took in the blood-matted hair. Kenny figured they were over-reacting. It had even almost stopped bleeding.

Stan grabbed the smaller blond's wrist and tugged him into the bathroom, Kyle trailing behind them anxiously.

"It's stopped bleeding." Kenny supplied quietly. "Head wounds bleed a ridiculous amount."

Kyle chuckled bemusedly. "Your hair is _matted_, dude."

Kenny offered a lopsided, cheerful grin. Stan huffed, reaching over to turn on the shower, and began to tug his own shirt off. Kyle gave him a weird look and Kenny looked mildly frightened.

"What are... What are you doing?" Kenny asked uncertainly. Stan snorted. "I'm helping you get that blood out of your hair."

Kenny sent an _infuriatingly_ amused Kyle a pleading glance. "You want me to... Get in the shower with you?" Kenny checked, sending Kyle into a bout of laughter.

Stan sighed. "I'm not asking you to get naked, Kenny. Keep your boxers on, and I will too, okay?"

Kenny had the most mortified expression on his face. "But... But... You're _gay_!"

Stan, apparently, was in one of his moods. Now standing in his boxers, he pressed his fists on his hips and _glared_. "Would it make you feel better if I made Kyle get in, too?"

Kyle stopped laughing.

Kenny shook his head, blood rising to his cheeks, a hot blush spreading down to his chest.

Stan face palmed, eyeing the copious amount of blood drying in Kenny's thick locks. "You'll need help getting that out. You know that, right? Especially now that it's dried in. Kyle, you stay in the room and make sure I don't rape Kenny." he demanded teasingly, invasively beginning to tug on the bottom of Kenny's oversized long sleeve T-shirt.

"Wait.. what are you... I can... _Hey_!" Kenny whined, mortified, as Stan tugged his shirt unceremoniously and insistantly.

With a small noise of protest and a harsh glare directed at a decidedly unhelpful Kyle, Kenny allowed the clothing to be pulled over his head. Stan and Kyle winced. _'They _always_ wince.'_ Kenny thought bitterly, crossing his arms to hide the protruding bones and yellowing bruises, an ashamed blush reddening his face.

"It's not your fault, man." Kyle muttered, awkwardly patting his shoulder in an infuriatingly gentle, hesitant manner. "I won't break!" Kenny snapped, standing and facing away from his friends as he undid his jeans (before Stan could decide to remove _those _for him as well) and, after a moments debate, slipped them down his thighs to reveal the pale, bare flesh of his skinny legs contrasting with his dark blue boxers, which, to Kyle's ever-growing amusement, were tightened dramatically at the waist by the strings and came down past his knees.

Stan tested the water and Kyle hopped up on the counter, leering discreetly at his best friend. Deeming the spray an appropriate temperature, the dark-haired male tugged his smaller friend with him into the shower, not bothering to close the door.

Steered by Stan's firm hands on his shoulders, Kenny stood beneath the warm, soothing spray, relaxing infinitely. Stan mumbled curses under his breath. "I expected at least SOME of it to come out..." he grumbled.

"Blood... Dried... Like friggin' impossible." Kenny mumbled distractedly, waving his hands about in vague gestures. Kyle laughed, trying not to make his staring obvious.

Stan tugged the happy blond out from under the spray, ignoring his unhappy whine in favor of filling his cupped hand with sweet-smelling shampoo. "This might sting a little." he warned, burying his hands unceremoniously into the blood-covered locks. Kenny hissed at the initial contact of soap in his wound but quickly relaxed with a contented sigh, rubbing almost cat-like against Stan's skillful massaging hands.

"This is the gayest thing I've ever experienced..." Kenny moaned, bracing himself against one wall. "'Cept for maybe fatass telling me I'm pretty."

Kyle and Stan exchanged bemused glances above Kenny's head. Kenny giggled. "I'm freaking EXHAUSTED, man. Kevin and Karen get so loud..."

Kyle gagged and Stan balked, looking disgusted. "That's _sick_! There's what, a five year age difference? And she's like, eleven? And they're siblings! That's just _wrong_, man..."

Kenny gave Kyle a half-delirious serious look. "No, what's 'just _wrong_' is that dad video tapes it, Mom joins in when she's high and Kevin keeps asking me to join in. _Never_ Google Redneck Incest 3." he warned as Stan guided him forward under the water again, making a satisfied noise as the water and bubbles racing for the drain turned pink. While Kyle tried to wrap his mind around Kevin and Karen and squash down the same morbid curiosity that made him Google 'blue waffle', '4chan /b' and '2girls1cup', Stan continued to run his fingers through Kenny's clean locks.

"Toss me a comb, Kyle." Stan requested, catching said item carefully.

Kenny groaned discontentedly as Stan drew him away (_again!_) from the warmth of the water. The liquid that was rubbed into his scalp this time was much slicker and less soapy. "What is that?" he asked, eyes closed and half asleep.

"Conditioner." Stan replied shortly, beginning to gently untangle Kenny's hair.

"Aw, man. You're making my hair all gay and girly, too."

Stan giggled and they lapsed into a surprisingly comfortable silence. Soon enough, the dark haired boy, seemingly satisfied with his work, guided his friend forward once more to rinse out the conditioner, combing it with one hand and smoothing it out with the other.

"Oh, man." Stan called to a diligently watching Kyle, "His hair is _insanely_ soft. Feel this."

Obediently, the redhead leaned forward to trail his fingers through the warm, wet, cascading locks. "It is soft." he murmured in surprise. He smiled, ducking his head to peer into the blond's face. "Awh, he passed out. How cute."

"Wonder why Cartman was telling him he's pretty?" Stan half-asked, shutting off the water and smoothing liquid out of Kenny's hair. Kyle shrugged. "I dunno, but I'm calling him out on it."

"Don't go looking for fights. Help me dry this poor child off."

Several minutes later, Kenny was wrapped in towels, sprawled out on Stan's bed and still wearing damp boxers. The two Super-Best Friends sat on either side of him.

"... Stan?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"I'm gay."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

"I like you."

"I like you too."

"Go out with me on Friday?"

"Hell yes."

_**... Even if He Doesn't Want You To**_

**Step Four:_ Support Him..._**

Kyle, Stan, and Eric all sat around Stark's pond, worried expressions evident.

Eric was the first to voice the issue.

"Kenny won't be able to stay in that trailer forever."

Stan and Kyle nodded in agreement.

"He has no money what-so-ever to support himself when he has to leave."

Agreeable noises.

"We can turn his life around when the time comes... But we'll need cash."

"But _how_?" Stan demanded. "We're _almost_ fourteen. Where will we get enough money to support a _person_?"

Eric sighed. "He can migrate between our houses. We can get at least one set of parents to take custody over him when the time comes. As for cash... You guys usually have change in your pockets at the end of the day, yeah?"

The other two nodded.

"Just put all the cash that doesn't have a purpose, change and misfit ones and such, in a jar. Once a week, we'll give it all to Stan to keep in that safe of his. Money will accumulate."

"That could work."

"Mom adores Kenny."

"I bet Ike would chip in."

Eric smiled. "We can get jobs once we turn fourteen. We can put tips and such in our jars, too."

And so the Kenny Trust Fund was born.

_**... And Take Care of Him (Even Preemptively)**_

**Step Five:_ Love Him..._**

_**..?**_

**REVIEW PLEASE! I'M TAKING REQUESTS AND SUCH (IF I LIKE THEM, ANYWAY)**


	2. Chapter 1: Dude, My House Burned Down

_**A/N: I literally squealed at my reviews. Seriously. Anyway, updates should occur every Friday from now on. Unless I'm with holding them from Cici. Yeah, Ci, you heard me. I **_**promise, ****_I'll have JoJo (who says the quote that gave this the title) in the next chapter. Oh, about the Math Fair thing towards the end... I know its weird, but I'm having one at my school, so... (shrugs). Read and enjoy!_**

**Chapter one: Dude, My House Burned Down**

_**Approximately a year and a half later:**_

Flames danced before his eyes. It twirled and spun and waltzed and spiraled and, in all honesty, was beautiful in their destruction as it ate greedily away at old wood.

Smoke billowed intensely into the sky, blocking out the stars and muffling the moon. Kenny continued to simply stare, mesmerized by the flames dying under the sand and dirt and water the citizens of South Park were diligently tossing over the flames. Kenny felt hot all over, between the fire billowing heat towards him and the presence of South Park's favorite couple at either side, arms draped heavily but comfortingly across his shoulders.

"Kyle?" Kenny's voice sounded small.

"Yeah, Ken?"

"S-Stan?"

"Yes, Hun?"

Kenny hesitated. His voice was unsure and almost questioning. "My... My house... Burned down."

Nobody spoke for a long moment. Kyle dropped to his knees in front of Kenny in order to look him in the eye. Stan moved behind their shorter friend, arms around his waist. The brunette nodded carefully, and Kyle spoke.

"Yeah, buddy. Your house burned down."

Kyle's heart nearly broke as he watched Kenny's big blue eyes fill with tears, shoulders shaking and fingers trembling. He spun and buried his face in Stan's chest, shuddering with harsh, jarring sobs. His frail arms clung tightly to the brunette's waist, and Stan could feel tears gathering in his own eyes as he stared pleadingly at Kyle. The redhead stood and pressed close behind their shaking friend, hugging him and trapping him between the two taller teenagers.

"Where am I gonna _go_?" Kenny wailed, his fragile frame wracked with sobs. Kyle murmured gentle nothings in his ear, holding him more tightly, ignoring the stares they were gathering, especially since Kenny's hood had fallen in the chaos. "My place." Stan replied firmly, gently detaching himself from the little blond. Kenny stumbled and Kyle picked him up easily, gently prompting Kenny to wrap his arms around his neck.

As Kyle began to walk away from the shouts and acrid stench of smoke and hauntingly beautiful fire, Kenny turned his neck awkwardly to watch it grow smaller over Kyle's shoulder, burying his face in Kyle's neck and smelling his strawberry-scented curls as they turned a corner.

...

"I think he fell asleep." Kyle murmured, gripping Kenny more tightly as they walked through the door into Stan's house. Mrs. Marsh sent the trio a sorrowed glance, continuing to speak in a rushed, quiet tone into the phone. Stan ran his hands through Kenny's tangled blond locks, pressing his face into them for a moment before withdrawing and starting towards his room. "Well, poor kid hasn't slept well... And it _is_ midnight."

Kyle rocked Kenny slightly as they walked, turning sideways to avoid banging his legs on the door frame. "I think he's got a sleeping disorder."

Stan snorted, pausing in pulling back the bedcovers to send Kyle an are-you-stupid look. "Well, duh. It's called, 'Horny Incestuous Siblings'."

Kyle nodded knowledgeably, biting his lip to keep from smiling. "Yes. He'll need crazy-meds."

The brunette swatted his hand playfully. "Stupid lump. Make your ass useful and put him in bed, Ginger." Kyle smirked as he did what he was told. "I know how I can make _your_ ass useful..."

Stan squealed as Kyle's large, rough palm came down none-too-gently on his ass. Stan sent him a nasty glare, before focusing again on removing Kenny's shoes and parka.

"You're sleeping on the couch, mister." Kyle pouted, flopping onto the bed dramatically and cuddling close to a blissfully oblivious Kenny. "But I wanna sleep with Kenny..." he whined. Stan smirked. "Too bad, so sad. Kenny's mine."

Kyle maneuvered himself under Kenny's skinny arm to lie his head on the too-thin stomach before him. "But he likes me, see?" Stan smiled. They looked so cute like that, Kenny's lips parted in sleep, messy golden locks in his eyes, Kyle's mischievous emerald orbs staring teasingly, _invitingly_ up at him...

Forcing himself away from that particularly dangerous thought-process, Stan relaxed onto the bed, mirroring Kyle's position on Kenny and pulling the covers up over them.

"Goodnight, Kyle."

"Sleep well, love."

...

Kenny had woken with a start, mildly frightened when he noted the red and dark brown locks tangled together on his chest, trying frantically to remember how they got there. With a bone-shaking sigh of relief, the groggy blond recognized his friends and Stan's room. He smiled softly at the way the lovers held each other, fingers laced flawlessly and resting flat on his stomach, the comfortable way their foreheads brushed, the tiny unconscious smiles gracing their lips... It made him think of their first date.

_Kenny had many cat-like qualities. He purrs when content, though quietly and rarely. He can't resist a twitching feather. Catnip gets him somewhat high with a single sniff. He presses into the slightest pet._

_Unfortunately, he was also given a cat's insatiable, damning curiosity._

_That curiosity is what made Kenny follow his two best friends that fateful Friday night. It's what made him watch and hide in a tree near Stark's pond, and made him listen in on their first date. _

_Not that he thought it was a date. He had no idea. The blond just wanted to know what they were up to... And why he couldn't come. _

_Kenny was awestruck. The two were beautiful in the star light of a moonless night. Their skin glowed and their hair shimmered, eyes glinting brightly. They stretched out across the grass, and after a moment of silence, Stan pointed to the sky and murmured, just loud enough for the hidden blond to hear, "Coma Berenices."_

_Kyle stared up at the stars for a moment, befuddled. "Um... Come again?"_

_Stan smiled. "A constellation, Ky. Coma Berenices. It represents the beautiful hair of Queen Berenice of... Egypt? Yeah, that sounds right. She was so concerned for the safety of her husband when he went off to war, that she promised to cut off her glorious hair as a sacrifice to Venus, if he'd be spared. When he returned home safely, she kept her promise, and Zeus placed her beautiful hair in the heavens to shine among the stars. It's a Greek myth."_

_"Oh, wow. How did you know that?"_

_"I like stars. There's Musca over there... And Virgo." Stan seemed enthralled, tracing the shapes with his fingers and the myths silently with his lips._

_"The Virgin?" Kyle asked, watching not the stars, but Stan, adoration shining in his eyes. Stan let his hands fall, turning to look Kyle in the eye. "Yeah. The Virgin. Goddess of chastity and friend of all things pure."_

_"Like you?" Kyle jibed. Stan smiled, caught between flattery and annoyance. "I'm confused, Ky. Are you calling me a virgin, chaste, pure, or a goddess?"_

_Kyle just laughed, leaning in to place a delicate kiss on the brunette's nose. Stan blushed, leaning in closer to press his lips against the redhead's hesitantly._

_Kyle pressed back, slightly unsure but happy, against his best friend's soft, warm lips and it was so _perfect_ and god-_

_"Holy- ack!" _~Thump!~

_The couple parted hastily, sitting up and staring in no small amount of disbelief and growing fury at the moaning, scratched, and bruised lump of orange and blond on the group not four feet from them. Slowly, the lump raised its head to reveal timid blue eyes framed by long golden eyelashes. It squeaked._

_Stan found his voice first. _"Kenneth Christian McCormick!"

_His name held anger and disappointment and shame and Kenny whimpered, pulling himself up to a sitting position and staring at his hands. When he looked up again, he let out a strangled moan, looking up to his (standing) friends' furious faces._

_"I'm so sorry I just wanted to know what you guys were doing and I didn't know it was a date and-" he was cut off from his apologetic (fearful) rant by Stan, who was gripping the bridge of his nose, eyes clenched shut and a single palm exposed, pressed towards Kenny, that demanded immediate silence. _

"_Stan-"_

_"Go."_

_"But-"_

_"_Go_!"_

_"Yessir!"_

_Kenny stood and practically ran away, hearing vaguely from behind him, "Was that _really_ necessary, Stanley?"_

_"I suppose not, but..."_

_Kenny heard no more._

Present-time Kenny laughed, remembering Stan's face when Kyle made him apologize.

The laughter seemed to stir the boys sleeping on him slightly.

"Hey, Kyle." Kenny murmured in seeing his glowing green eyes open groggily. "Guess what? I'm a pimp, hoe."

Kyle snorted in laughter, trying not to wake Stan as he shook. "You? A pimp? Whatever, Ken, you know you're our bitch."

"You're such a damn flirt, Ky." Stan mumbled sleepily. Kyle smirked. "I can't and won't deny that, honey."

Suddenly, Kenny's face fell, all mirth melting away. His eyes turned dull and sad. "Guys..." he mumbled sorrowfully, "Did my house really...?"

Stan sat up quickly, looking Kenny straight in the eyes. "Your house is gone. Your parents fled and your sister and brother called last night before the fire to tell you that they found a place in New York. You remember all that, right?"

Kenny nodded slowly, recalling the conversation with his brother that had begun and ended with "Can't really talk, in New York. Karen'll write you. Take care."

"My family... My house... Where am I gonna go, guys?" Kenny relaxed as two pairs of arms wrapped reassuringly around him. "You'll stay with me and Stan and Eric, Ken. We talked to our parents about taking you in years ago... Believe it or not, Kenny, we've been preparing for something like this to happen for almost two years."

Kenny's expressive blue eyes widened in shock and gratitude and he gripped Stan's sleeves almost desperately. "R-really?"

"Really."

"... Really, really?"

"Really really, Blondie."

"Hey!"

...

Kenny looked nervous, standing awkwardly in the middle of the Marsh's' kitchen, being poked and prodded and interrogated on his health by a concerned Mrs. Marsh. He blushed and apologized for intruding only to be swatted for 'such silly nonsense!' and guided to sit at the breakfast table with a heavy plate of toast and bacon and eggs and fresh biscuits in his arms. His mouth watered at the delightful smell, but he hesitated, glancing at Mr. Marsh unsurely. "Can I really..?"

Mr. Marsh grinned. "Of course, Kenny. You're practically family!"

With an encouraging look from Kyle and a threatening one from Stan, Kenny took a small bite of eggs. Within moments, Kenny was practically inhaling the food, complimenting a positively _preening_ Mrs. Marsh between bites. Soon, half of the plate was gone and Kenny stopped abruptly, wiping his hands and face on a napkin sheepishly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Marsh. That's the best meal I've had in years... No, ma'am, I'm quite full..."

"You ate... About enough to feed a ten year old... In fifteen seconds... And you're full." Stan mumbled, shaking his head.

"Are you sure, dear? You definitely ate fast but you didn't eat a lot." Kenny flushed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I think that's the most I've ever eaten at one sitting."

Kyle shook his head bemusedly. "Go get showered... Grab some of Stan's clothes."

Kenny excused himself and left the other occupants of the table to start on their (still hot) food.

...

"Stanley, Kenny... When was the last time he ate?"

Stan tensed. Kyle winced. "Just a moment ago, mama." Stan replied politely, trying to appear casual. Mrs. Marsh was not amused.

"Young man..!" Stan flinched.

"Wen-Wednesday!"

"But..." Mr. Marsh patted his wife on the arm as she fretted, "But today is Saturday!"

Stan was silent for a moment. "He's had a couple apples. Crackers. No meals since we treated him Wednesday. We'd do it every day, but he won't take the charity."

Mrs. Marsh stayed quiet.

...

"Hey, Stan, I gotta get home, babe. Bring Ken by when he gets out of the shower?" Kyle requested, kissing the brunette, who was busy scribbling in his infamous, ever-changing notebook, on the cheek. Stan smiled. "Sure! Take this with you and read some of it... It's like, chapter five in there, but ah, well..."

"Will do." the redhead promised with a grin. "Another fantasy/scifi?" he inquired, tugging on his shoes.

"Nah..." Stan replied with a tiny blush. "More like a kinda messed-up three-way gay romance. I have no idea where it came from, but its got magic and succubus and pyromaniacs and an African shaman!"

The redhead stared for a minute, glanced at his lover, and whispered, half-teasing, half serious, "Have I ever mentioned I have a soft spot for romance?"

Stan put his hands up in an 'I-surrender' gesture. "All guys do. It's just a matter of embracing it. The other chapters are in that blue half-inch binder."

Kyle laughed whole-heartedly, snatching up the binder and sending a two-finger salute his direction as he headed out.

...

A few minutes later:

"Sta-an!" Kenny whined with a dangerous pout, smacking Stan as the brunette tried desperately to stop

laughing, to no avail.

"Y-you look l-like some douche bag-jock's g-g-girlfriend!" he gasped out between laughs, holding his heaving sides. Kenny's cheeks colored. "Do not!"

"Come on, man." Stan giggled, mirth subsiding as he tossed Kenny a belt, "You've got the long hair, face, and body to be a girl, and then you've got the eight-sizes too big clothes... Naughty." he teased. The brunette's pants, from the way Kenny held them bunched at the side and how thick the roles at the bottom were, were much too large, and the shirt, which appeared to be Kyle's, came down almost to where the brunette's guessed the blond's knees must be hidden, and draped dangerously off one shoulder.

Stan walked close to his friend, contrasting their sizes silently.

"How tall are you?"

"..."

"What was that?"

"Five foot two."

"Seriously?"

"... Yeah."

"Holy shit. I'm five ten and Kyle is already six one..."

"Shut up."

"Midget."

"Wheres my parka?" Kenny whined, tugging the shirt back up his shoulders only to have it fall down the other, glancing around for the orange monstrosity.

"Washer. Wear Kyle's hoodie instead." Stan called, throwing the oversized cloth at the blond. Kenny groaned.

...

Kyle didn't even glance at Kenny when his two best friends entered his house. He just twisted his fist in Stan's shirt, anger blaring in his eyes dangerously, and dragged the panicking brunette into the nearest room (Mr. Broflovski 's study) and tossed him against the wall, slamming the door shut violently.

Kenny was left to blink after them owlishly, unsure as to whether he should intervene. Ike, nine now, though he pretends to be thirty, sidles up beside him, glancing up at him and smiling. "I'll be taller than you, soon, Kenny."

Kenny grinned. He was at least eight inches taller than the kid. "Give it a couple years, Ikey. You've hardly hit puberty." Ike smirked conspiratorially. "Thats _just_ what we _want_ you to think."

Kenny sweat dropped, allowing Ike to absent-mindedly twine their fingers together, not making any moves to help at all. The fourth grader gave him a weird look but dropped it at seeing Kenny studying their hands as though trying to figure out how he did it. With a quiet laugh (accepting that Kenny probably didn't hold hands much) Ike tugged the blond along to his room, excitedly describing his Math Fair project on the Fibonacci sequence.

...

"It goes one, one, two, three, five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one, thirty-four, fifty-five, and onward. You see, you add the previous two numbers to get the next number in the sequence, see? This is important because this sequence is found all throughout nature. Like, have you ever really _looked_ at a pine cone? A lot of them have this pattern. Isn't it just _fascinating_? Oh, hey Kyle, Stan."

Kenny took a deep breath, trying to absorb everything the little kid had told him to with very little success. Finally, he caught up with the last thing the fourth grader said and stood, tripping over his over-long jeans and smiling, only for it to morph into a scowl as Kyle went from a bright blush to maniac laughter, doubled over and clutching his sides desperately.

"Awh!" he cooed, laughter subsiding. "You look like you spent a night out! Slu- erm, Uh, Hamlet!" he stammered, remembering at the last moment that his baby brother was in the room.

"Bro, I know what a slut is."

"You _what_?" Ike winced, raising his hands in defense. "I'm nine! Almost ten! Of course I know. In fact, I can say it Spanish, French, Italian, and Yiddish."

Kyle faltered. "W-whatever, Ike, I don't want to hear you saying it. Ever. In any language."

"Salope." Ike teased, pointing at Kenny. Kyle smirked. "_My_ Salope, not yours. He's wearing _my _hoodie."

Said blond pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's cute." Stan assured him, making him scowl harder.

"I'll show _you_ cute!" he threatened, fighting back a grin.

Kyle smirked, ruffling Kenny's ever-tangled hair. "You already have, shortstuff."

Kenny's face fell again, turning towards Ike unhappily. "Dude, my house burned down." Ike patted him on the head.

"Yeah, I heard."

_**Inspiration for Kenny's first name came from a middle name generator. I typed in "Kenny" and "McCormick" and it gave me Christian and I could just **_**hear ****_it. And yeah, I know Kyle is an uber-flirt. Shut up. Oh, and I'm sorry if someone in too-big clothes doesn't make you think of an overnight-girlfriend or a slut. It does for me._**

_**ONE MORE THING! That was the first kiss-scene I've written in two years, and that one was a lot different, so, sorry if it sucks major Napoleon balls. (I love you, Grayson. Seriously, you 'n your fucked up little mind, too.)**_

_**REVIEWS MAKE ME FEEL GUILTY FOR TAKING A LONG TIME TO UPDATE!**_


	3. Chapter 2: The Jacket

_**Just a cute little filler. I told you reviews work. AS promised, some JoJo present! Not to mention some Buttery goodness.**_

First day back at school, looking and feeling awkward in his friends' old clothes, which are all either too small or too large for him. Sad, pitying looks follow him everywhere, and several people approach him with offers of condolences.

Kenny hadn't realized the other kids _cared_.

Several also asked why he had wrapped himself and covered his face with a small orange blanket. His muffled reply had been that Ike burned through his parka with a freak chemical.

And yes, he did intend to wear the blanket until he found a replacement. Mr. Garrison, who seemed intent on following his students through high school and maybe even college, had tried to make him remove his fuzzy shield, but Eric had loudly threatened to burn the ever-present Mr. Hat. Mr. Garrison relented.

Butters approached him behind the gym after school, pausing awkwardly at seeing Stan and Kyle making out off to the side. Shaking his head and blinking rapidly, the wayward little blond pointedly turned his back to the couple, facing Kenny with a serious expression.

Kenny grinned, eyes closing happily. He patted the ground next to him in invitation, relaxing against the cold brick wall behind him. Butters sat obediently, turning towards the larger blond nervously.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments. Abruptly, Butters threw his arms around Kenny's neck, hugging him tightly and murmuring apologies and reassurances like "It'll be okay!"

Startled, Kenny was slow in reacting, but after a moments wrapped his arms around Butters's waist, smiling and blushing at the obscene gestures Eric was making with his hands, an encouraging, suggestive grin on his face. Kenny glared at him, squeezing Butters briefly before letting him draw back. "Thanks, Butters." Kenny murmured with a kind smile. Butters smiled back crookedly.

"Well, Kenny, gee. Wendy and Bebe and me heard about the fire an' then you lost your coat and... Well, the girls wanna get you new clothes. You should talk to Wendy about it, okay? I gotta go, bye, Kenny!" he said in a rush, already standing and walking away.

Kenny blinked, looking down at the clothes he wore just then. His own dirty socks, his shoes, Kyle's too-big shirt from when they were twelve, and Stan's old too-tight goth jeans that clung uncomfortably to the most random places... (Not to mention the blanket.) Yes, clothes sounded nice, but... Charity didn't.

Eric plopped down beside him quietly, not saying anything for a moment. "You don't want to take their pity, do you." It wasn't a question. Kenny made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat anyway.

Eric sighed. "Kenny, who do all of us go to when we're troubled? Red, Tweekers, Stan, Kyle, me, Bebe, Wendy, heck, Jimmy, even! You're our _counselor_, man." Kenny stilled, deep in thought.

Fifth grade, Red's Grandmother's cancer, Tweek's crush on Craig, Jimmy's bully. Sixth grade, Bebe's abusive boyfriend, Timmy's new caretaker. Seventh grade, Wendy's boyfriend, Red's broken leg, Stan's homosexuality. Eighth grade, Craig's crush on Tweekers, Bebe's other abusive boyfriend, Jimmy and Timmy leaving for a month for physical therapy. Freshman year, Kyle and Stan's relationship, setting up Craig and Tweakers, Wendy's emo phase... This year, Sarah's pneumonia, Bebe and Wendy's fight, Red's stuck in the middle-ness...

Just off the top of Kenny's head. The blond balked.

"Holy shit, I'm a therapist."

Eric grinned. "Do you have any idea how much you've helped me with honeybee? She misses you, by the way... You should stay over tonight."

Kenny nodded numbly.

...

Eric had settled it for him. Tomorrow, after school, at the Station Town mall, an hour's drive down the mountain. The girls and Butters put together a hundred and twenty bucks, and another hundred had been taken from the Kenny Fund. Personally, Kenny wasn't sure how clothes could cost so much, but Eric had just smiled and suggested he find a new hoodie as well.

This Kenny was excited about. The blanket dragged the ground somewhat.

It usually took twenty minutes or so to get home for Kenny, no matter where home happened to be that night, but today was different. Kenny was practically bouncing along (much to Eric's amusement) as they neared the South Park Preschool and Daycare.

Eric picked up his pace as they neared the house, almost anxiously knocking on the door and relaxing when it opened, smiling slightly at Mrs. Maple, an elderly woman who ran the place in her home. She was a sweet lady with a smile that made people think of a picture-perfect granny. Rumor had it that her only daughter died thirty years ago of lukemia, so she moved back to South Park, her birth town, to run the daycare. The main room where the children were kept was the basement, which isn't as horrible as it sounds.

The basement was carpeted with green shag she replaced every couple years and the walls were sky blue with random clouds and flowers and trees. One wall was all shelf, filled with toys and books, and there was a stack of tiny cots in one corner, for the twice-a-day naptime, and a reading corner complete with rocking chair and beanbags.

Mr. Smith, Mrs. Maple's boyfriend of three years, was seated in the chair, a dozen or so children seated around him, listening intently to the Velveteen Rabbit. The duo stopped silently at the bottom of the stairs, Eric smiling softly at Sarah and Kenny listening intently to his favorite fairy tale.

"Autumn passed and Winter, and in the Spring, when the days grew warm and sunny, the Boy went out to play in the wood behind the house. And while he was playing, two rabbits crept out from the bracken and peeped at him. One of them was brown all over, but the other had strange markings under his fur, as though long ago he had been spotted, and the spots still showed through. And about his little soft nose and his round black eyes there was something familiar, so that the Boy thought to himself:"

The man paused, looking around at the children seriously. Kenny cut in with a smile.

"'Why, he looks just like my old Bunny that was lost when I had scarlet fever!'"

Mr. Smith smiled kindly at him, continuing with a tone of finality

"But he never knew that it really was his own Bunny, come back to look at the child who had first helped him to be Real."

Eric gave him an odd look, but Kenny was lost, thinking about a worn book of fairy tales, lost to flame and smoke, it's golden edged scorched, it's pages destroyed, the beautiful pictures eaten away...

"Bubby!" JoJo squealed, breaking him from his memories. She sprang up and tackled the large brunette, who didn't move at all at the impact to his legs. He knelt and hugged her quickly, allowing her to break away to tackle Kenny (who buckled dangerously) with an elated squeal of "HOODIE!"

Kenny laughed loudly, picking up the adorable little blond and spinning her around in his arms, delighting in her laughter. Sarah's big brown eyes, a shade of chocolate more deep and beautiful than any brown he'd ever seen, stared adoringly at him from her unnaturally (for South Park, anyway) tan face, accentuated by long golden eyelashes. Her golden-blond curls were pulled into pigtails and Kenny couldn't help but think that she was really, truly, unbiasedly the most beautiful toddler he'd ever seen... But then again, he was also the first person to hold her after her birth. It's hard to hold no bias against that.

"Hey, JoJo." he grinned, kissing her on the cheek.

"I'm gonna marry Carder." she informed him, beaming, as she pointed to a fellow four year old. Eric grinned at him, waving, "What's up, Carter?"

"Time to go!" Sarah yelled excitedly as Eric grabbed her lunchbox and coat, calling over her shoulder as Kenny began climbing the stairs, "Bye bye Misser Smith! I love you, Carder!"

"Love you too, JoJo!"

Kenny choked back a snort, bouncing Sarah up higher on his hip. _She's getting heavy._

The trio said their goodbyes to Mrs. Maple and went on their way, stopping to put JoJo's coat on. Eric smiled as Kenny began to strain under Sarah's _whopping_ (please note sarcasm) thirty-six pounds, gently taking her into his own arms as they continued down the cold, quiet roads. "How was your day, Honeybee?" he asked contentedly.

"Good. I went to school an' play with Carder and Ava and Lily." she replied absently, obviously annoyed at her brother's boring question. Eric laughed and listened intently as the little blond babbled on about, well, everything, but Kenny's mind was on the fact that he'd be able to sift through the ashes of his home in a few short days.

...

Kenny felt awkward, sitting on Eric's bed in a darkened room, watching said teen stroke his sleeping sister's hair. His perceptive brown eyes were trained on his longtime best friend, a calculating expression fixed on his features.

"You miss your parents." It wasn't a question. It never was with Eric.

Kenny's reply was careful and measured. "I miss when dad offered me a beer after a hard day. I miss when mama helped me with Algebra homework. I miss dad's awkward hugs when I was having a hard time, the way mom stroked my hair when she thought I was asleep... But I don't miss the verbal abuse or the drunken swings or the cursing... So I miss my sober parents, I guess."

Eric smiled, contemplative. "We live life every day knowing that at any moment, it can all be taken away. Everyone you love, everyone you hate, everything that does and does not matter to you can disappear in a heartbeat. It's not fair and it doesn't make any sense, but that's the way it is. We must revel in everything we have so that we can remember it when its gone."

"True that, Fatass. True that."

...

The mall trip had become a family and friends outing. The Marshs, minus Stan's sister in college, Mrs. Broflovski and Ike, Eric and Sarah, Wendy, Pip, a reluctant Damien, Bebe and Red, Butters, Craig and Tweek, Kyle and Stan, and a ton of other random people meeting up in random cliques at random times.

Wendy, Red and Bebe had immediately dragged him into the nearest clothing store, followed by Butters and an amused Stan.

The group of misfits quickly fell into a steady rhythm. Bebe and Wendy would toss a ton of clothes into his arms, Red would try things on, Kenny would be forced to showcase each article of clothing, blushing, and give a brief review while the girls discussed it and Stan alternated between staring and laughing his ass off at Kenny's mutinous expression. They would pay, Kenny would promise to pay them back, the girls would wave him off, Butters would hug him in sympathy, and Stan would be given the bags. Red drifted off after two stores, and returned three later with toiletries, underwear, socks and other such things for the blond, much to Kenny's embarrassment, though he gave her a quick hug in thanks.

Soon, Stan was laden down with bags and all that was left was a pair of shoes. Kenny, personally, thought his shoes were fine. Yeah, there was a hole here and there, and the traction was worn away, and yeah, they're handmedowns from Kevin, but they covered his feet, didn't they? Plus, they were damn comfortable.

...

Kyle caught up with them as the left the shoe store, smiling slightly at the little blond's obvious elation. He now wore a thin, airy, bright-orange hoodie that would do nothing to keep him warm, but allow him to keep his hood on inside without overheating, though it was a bit big on him. Wendy had taken his old shoes and asked the clerk, who was reluctant to touch them, to burn them, and he was now profusely thanking Wendy, Bebe, and Butters for his new shoes, which Kyle had to admit he was a tiny bit jealous of; old-school leather converse. As the redhead joined the group among delighted hellos, Wendy squealed and pointed at a nearby store. With a distressed groan, he recognized Forever 21. _Girls and that damned store don't mix._

Relieving his boyfriend of a couple bags, he followed the girls inside, sticking close to Stan and Kenny.

After a few moments, though, the little blond wandered off. Free to speak of the shorty, Stan murmured conspiratorially; "You'll like his new clothes, Ky. You can actually tell he has a _shape_ of some sort now, even if that shape is malnourished. We got everything a little too big for him, though, since he'll be filling out soon. Go grab him a belt, alright? I'm gonna go find Butters and thank him."

Kyle nodded and kissed him on the cheek, making the brunette blush and hurry away. Kyle grinned and headed in the opposite direction, towards a rack of belts. Grabbing an intentionally worn-looking silver studded belt, he began to look around for his friends, immediately finding Kenny a couple isles away. He stilled, watching the wonderment of his face as he caressed the material of the slightly-oversized jacket he'd tried on. The redhead smiled at the teen's obvious disappointment as he removed it and replaced it, walking away towards the dressing rooms, where Wendy and Bebe were flirting with poor little Butters in skimpy, revealing dresses that made the nervous blond blush and bump his fists together.

Approaching the jacket, Kyle couldn't help but think that Kenny had weird taste. He couldn't quite decide what color it was, a sort of dusty, brownish-greenish gray that wasn't exactly unappealing but simply odd. It had pockets with bronze zippers down the sides and an opening at the top on the breast, and deep double-pockets on the abdomen. _One for cold hands, one that buttons for safekeeping,_ he supposed.

It zippered and buttoned down, with the hard-to-do-up, metal snapping buttons. Kyle figured it would come a quarter of the way down his thighs. Two long slits in the material were found just below and just behind where the blond's hips would be. The sleeves buttoned at the end in two settings. There were latched-loops (like on a military uniform) on each shoulder.

With a mental shrug, Kyle snatched it up, figuring that if it made Kenny happy, it didn't really matter what it looked like.

...

Kenny shivered as he stepped outside, wrapping his arms around himself and pulling at the strings on his hoodie, still a bit in shock at the fact that he had _new_ clothes to call his own.

Without warning, something heavy was draped around his shoulders. The blond started, pushing his arms through the sleeves and opening his mouth to thank whoever for lending him their jacket, but all that escaped was a little "Oh."

It was _his _jacket, the one he'd felt so drawn to in the store. He stopped, a radiant smile growing on his face, turned, and launched himself into the laughing redhead's waiting arms, a waterfall of _thankyous_ falling from his lips.

Kyle pressed his lips to the top of his head, ignoring the look Stan was giving him. "You're welcome, love."

_**AWH! Isn't that sweet? Anyway, remember the jacket! I based it off my own sexy-jacket. (Again, I love my friends.) I'll still probably be updating on Friday.**_

_**YOU'VE SEEN THAT REVIEWS WORK! I ABSOLUTELY WON'T POST IF MY REVIEWS DON'T HIT TWENTY! I LOVE YOU ALL! **_

_**...Plz?**_


	4. AN Sorry!

A/N

Sorry, my adoring fans. My _supposed _best friend (glares) stole my phone, which had the chapter on it. To prevent humiliation, I decided to not make her send it to me. I'll get it back tomorrow (unless it snows) so, no worries. I'll update on Friday as usual. I have a bit of writer's block, but... Anyway! This Friday!

Chapter 3: This is a Bad Idea

Mrs. Marsh, after three weeks of Kenny home-hopping, has decided it's simply not healthy for him to not have a proper house. What is her solution?

Also... Stan can't hold his alcohol.

The Friday after that!

Chapter 4: A Challenger Approaches (Alt. Title: Kenny's Kitten)

Paint, an invasive bully, and a helpless kitten. Not to mention... Something precious stolen.

DUN DUN DUN DAAAAH!


	5. Interval Or Whatever that Word is

**Just some little gift for my readers. Takes place between the prologue and chapter one. Hopefully, it helps explains the tough little guy's... Uke-ness. He's just zen like no fucking other. Sorry, I'm in a weird mood. I'm aware the title isn't the right word, but in starts with 'inter' and I can't remember. Or maybe it _is _right? Meh.**

I am not _weak. _If I wanted, I could kick that bastard's goddamn ass. I don't need Eric, or Kyle, or Stan, or, fuck, _Butters _to come to my defense.

But again and again, that's what it comes to. Shoved against a wall, or the floor, or a desk, pinned by that rat bastard, bloody or bruised, fist rearing to strike me again, and it's Kyle, slamming his fist into Tommy's nose, Eric, pressing down on an interesting, apparently very painful pressure point near his hip, Butters, armed with a teacher or two, or Stan, slamming my bully against the wall.

This time, I've got my cheek shoved against a wall, hands held firmly above my head, spare hand alternately bruising my back and side and roaming sensitive areas.

I'm not in denial; I'll admit this is sexual harassment. Thank god the guys haven't _noticed _this aspect of our 'relationship'. Somebody'd wind up hospitalized, dead, or in jail.

So, why aren't I fighting back, just squirming and panting and cursing as a large, calloused fist shifts from clawing my hip to caressing my inner thigh?

It's simple, really. I'm-

"Oh my god." I wince internally, recognizing Stan's voice and Kyle's outraged gasp. Tommy tenses, teeth digging slightly harder into my neck, nails digging into my ass.

"Goddammit." I moan as the stupid jock releases my neck and straightens. Inexplicably, I feel short. Almost conversationally, I warn Tommy, "They're going to fucking _murder _you, dude."

He whimpers, stepping away from me, releasing my wrists. "I know."

I rub my sore, bruised wrists momentarily, hesitating in turning to look at his two best friends, feeling oddly ashamed. After all, out of his own fear of something they'd find silly, I'd _let _myself be... _Molested._

Twin expressions of fury mar their features. Kyle's jaw moves for a second soundlessly, staring at the nervous jock, my bully. Finally, he chokes out, "If I deal with this, I'm going to murder you. Get out before I change my mind."

The coffee-eyed boy didn't need to be told twice.

Silence stretches for a moment. I offer them a cheerful, lopsided grin. Stan is not amused. Kyle appears stunned.

Quickly surveying the empty classroom, the brunette among us ushers me to sit, ignoring my reassurances that _really, I'm fine! a_nd fussing with me obsessively, clawing at my ruffled hair, straightening my shirt, wiping away the blood from my neck.

Busy as I am trying to calm the frazzled brunette, I don't notice Kyle's presence drifting closer until his hand was gripping my shoulder with bruising force, head bowed, face hidden in the shadow of his unruly red hair.

"I could have handled it." I assure him, smiling again. I have very firm lines. If they are crossed, _that _is when I take action. Not before.

The redhead is trembling. "_Then why didn't you?_" I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off.

"If you can _handle _it, _Kenneth Christian McCormick, _why _didn't you?_" Kyle was growling, nails digging into my shoulder. Aware of Stan watching on in worry, I rest my hand against my friend's. He switches his grip, clinging to my admittedly smaller hand.

"Kyle..." I murmur calmly, still smiling reassuringly, "I've been a pacifist for more than a year now."

His bright emerald orbs shine with disbelief.

"You... You were... You were _serious_?"

Now _I'm_ angry. Infuriated, even. "I'm _always _serious about things like that, you asshole! Have you seen me be violent towards any living thing since?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Shut up, Broflovski."

I rip my hand from his grasp, standing and storming out of the room, leaving the super best friends/lovers to stare after me in disbelief and no doubt fight about upsetting me.

_**Review or die, my pretties. I know where you sleep, whom you trust... And whom you do but shouldn't.**_


	6. Chapter 3: This is a Bad Idea

**This Is a Bad Idea**

"Stanley!" Mrs. Marsh called cordially, distracting him from conversing with his three best friends, "Could I talk to you for a moment, honey?"

Her son smiled, untangling himself from Kyle and obediently allowing his mother to lead him into the kitchen, sitting him down with a steaming cup of earthy, fragrant tea. He sipped it absentmindedly, thinking vaguely that it needed more sugar, while his mother eyed him pensively.

"Stanley." she paused, looking altogether unsure. "We've been... Talking, your father, the Broflovskis, Lianne and I. About Kenny."

Stan tensed under his mother's contemplative gaze. "Is something wrong?" he asked seriously, breath quickening. He leaned forward, tea forgotten, to scrutinize his mother. Mrs. Marsh's heart clenched, prideful and sorrowful that her boy had grown to into such an admirable, mature young man.

"No, no." the woman assured him, a small smile on his face. Those two... Those _three_ had a very special bond, she could tell. "It's just... He's been home-hopping for three weeks. It's not healthy for a child."

Stan was caught between anger and grief. "You're... Sending him away, aren't you?" his voice was husky.

His mother shook her head vehemently. "No! When did you become so morbid, honey? Anyway... How would you feel if we cleaned out the storage room and moved him in? Lianne has Sarah Jo and the Broflovskis already have Ike and Kyle..."

"Wait-what-Ken..! Really?" Stan spluttered, shocked. His mother nodded, watching her son's growing smile with a grin of her own.

"Really, mama? Kenny move in?" his wide brown eyes were shining with uncensored hope, and adoration for his mother and the blond. The woman smiled.

"You know your father and I love him to death, and he practically lives here anyway. He'd just have his own room instead of being your pillow every night."

Stan blushed but continued to grin.

"... Really?"

"Yes, really!"

"... Can I tell him?"

"Why, of course!"

"Oh, wow! Oh, oh, _thank you_, thank-you-thank-you-thank-you! I gotta-I should... _Thankyou_! _**KENNY**_!"

The brunette was gone, a mess of excitement. With a fond grin, she mentally revoked her thoughts about maturity.

With a forceful _woosh_ of air, Kenny's lungs were emptied. The force pushed him back on the bed he was sitting on, falling in a tangle of over-excited limbs. Kyle, oblivious to what was causing the excitement, tossed himself onto the mattress next to them, dodging stray limbs as his boyfriend and his best friend settle, laughing at Kenny's choked expression.

"Wha-WHAT?" he gasps, torn between annoyance and amusement. Stan is positively beaming down at him from his place perched on the blond's abdomen.

"K-Kenny." he sounds slightly breathless, "You wanna move in here with us, like, for permanent? You'd be just down the hall in the storage room! We'd clean it out, first, of course, but..."

Kyle is dumbstruck. Kenny blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice.

"... Seriously?"

_**"YES!"**_

"Oh my god."

Kyle broke in with a grin, hugging first Kenny, then his boyfriend contentedly.

"This is great." Kenny mumbled, "Fuck the fire; life rocks." Stan grinned and kissed him on the cheek. The blond stuck his tongue out in disgust.

"_Ga-ay_!" he whined, scrubbing at his cheek. Kyle chuckled and leaned in to kiss the other side.

The blond hid a blushing smile.

**That night:**

"This is a bad idea, guys." Kenny mumbled, staring with no small amount of trepidation at the eight-pack of beer sitting on the Cartman living room table. "I mean, I can hold my liquor, and it would take more than that to get Eric drunk, but... Have you guys ever _had_ beer?"

Stan smiled reassuringly at the blond and Kyle slapped him painfully on the back, making him wince. "Relax, shortstuff. We'll be fine. And take off that hood; you're with us."

An hour and a half later:

Eric: Three beers: contentedly watching his friends.

Kyle: Two beers: Cheering his boyfriend on.

Stan: Two and a half beers: Seems to be deaf.

Kenny: Half a beer: Frantically trying to push Stan off.

Kenny was pinned under a giggling, way-too-happy Stan, pushing at his shoulders and trying to wriggle out from under the brunette to no success. "Stan!" he wailed, falling limp in defeat, "You're_ on_ my _lap_! And you're _heavy_! Get off!"

The larger teen was happily stroking the blond's hair, keeping up a steady, incoherent commentary to his decidedly unhelpful boyfriend, straddling an extremely uncomfortable blond's lap. Kyle was laughing his useless ass off.

Suddenly, Stan's clumsy hands were roaming his chest, sides and stomach. "Kahl! Kahl! I kin count 'es ribs! There're seven. Oh, wait. Here's somore..." Kenny was blushing now, feeling quite violated as his best friend's fingers brushed across his collar bones, nipples, ribs, abdomen, belly button... He squirmed in ticklishness, squashing the faint, involuntary arousal rising from the invasive contact.

Kyle was there too, now. Not quite drunk like Stan was, but tipsy enough to run his fingers up and down his side. "I count six. So he should have twelve, yeah?" His fingers shifted to Stan's side, snaking up his shirt and making the brunette's hands still on Kenny's chest. "You have six too..."

The redhead leaned up to kiss the brunette, and Kenny was left stupefied.

_My two best friends are making out _on top of me_ while my other best friend watches. And... _Oh,_ that's hot._

The blond blushed. It was like watching porno production in person. The kissing, the groping, Stan's moan... It was _terribly_ erotic.

Stan broke away, smirking at his prisoner. "Like that, honey?"

Kenny was frozen. He couldn't deny he was hard. The word _yes_ was on his lips, but he stayed frozen, hoping to have the decision made by an outside force.

_'God must really love me.'_

"You guys should have a threesome." Eric chipped in from the side, voice slightly husky. "That'd be hot. However, you shouldn't rape Kenny... I might have to kill you." his voice was friendly, but it held warning. Stan frowned, allowing Kyle to pull him away from his shell-shocked, aroused blond.

"S'okay..." he mumbled sleepily, eyes drooping suddenly, "Kyle says we aren't allowed, anyway."

Kenny blushed at the memory, surveying the living room in the morning light with curiosity. Eric had passed out in his chair, Kenny on the couch, and Stan and Kyle had gone up stairs, and were likely naked on Eric's bed now.

"What did he mean, not allowed?" Kenny mumbled to himself, tugging his fingers through his hair and trying to find his shoes.

Didn't matter. Today is the day. Well, yesterday was, but Eric had insisted on a party to celebrate the news that Kenny would be able to officially move in with Stan in a few short weeks.

Sparing one last thought to last night's events, deciding to pretend it was some sort of fucked-to-all-hell dream, Kenny determinedly set out into the crisp early morning air.

But a seed, an idea had been planted...

'Yes, indeed, today was the day.' Kenny thought despairingly, sorrowfully staring at the heap if ashes, patches of standing board, melted piles of plastic and ruined appliances... "Welcome home, Kenny." he murmured, reassuring himself that the fire department (three dudes sitting around a table at the police station, but don't tell the poor kid that) had deemed it safe. So he began to sift through the ashes, sifting through debris and decay to locate treasure among the ash.

The ash-covered treasures were laid out on the kitchen table.

Kyle and Stan took it in, staring in disbelief while Kenny moved around them, pouring himself a large glass of sweet tea.

A slightly scorched quilt. It appears to be handmade.

A single, slightly bent, spoon.

A bible frayed from use and covered in ash.

A glass wineglass.

An iron-framed family photo with cracked glass.

Three iron-wrought cross, with an etched_ K_ in each.

"There were other things. Silverware, pots and pans, a box of nails. Almost everything is gone. These are the things that are special to me, that survived, anyway. Grandmother's quilt; all three of us and mama were brought home from the hospital in that quilt. The spoon that mama used to make me giggle when I was little. A family photo. Our crosses. Sorry, Kyle. We were very religious." Kenny explained, pointing to the crosses and the miraculously untouched bible, simultaneously reaching into his pocket, removing a ring of old fashioned keys.

"Great-great grandpa's keys. There's something else, too, but I'll need help moving it back here. It's heavy. A small safe. I don't know the code."

"What's up with the wineglass?" Stan questioned, interrupting Kyle, who was quietly telling Kenny to never be sorry for his religion. Kenny smiled, surprisingly cheerful.

"Mama's favorite. I hope to track her down someday." His throat felt as though it was swollen shut. His eyes burned. Kyle placed a concerned hand on his shoulder, but Stan beat him to asking, "Are you okay?"

With a tearful smile, Kenny latched onto the brunette, grip sure and firm, for a just a moment, turning to do the same thing to Kyle. "I'm okay."

Stan looked ready to protest, but Kyle sent him a warning glare, quieting him. Kenny was happily cleaning one of the crosses, a damp rag in hand. He looked somewhat... Relieved. Kyle couldn't believe that this was all that was left of that old house.

**Two weeks later:**

Stan was nervous. Kenny hadn't mentioned _it_ since the fire, when all his work had gone up in flames. The heavy smell that used to fit him like a second skin had long faded. All the expected splatters that used to dot and clump his golden locks were washed out long ago.

Five weeks after the fire. The Marsh's had finally cleared away the storage room that was usually ignored. The floor was splintery wood with patches concrete. There was a hole in the ceiling. It smelled of dust and neglect. The walls were peeling, ancient wallpaper. Kenny _adored_ it.

On a separate note, Stan and Kyle were coming to _adore_ the little blond. Everything he did and said made them melt. It was rather pathetic.

Kenny was developing a crush of his own. The other two could see it in his subtle blush. A plan was forming.

It had to do with paint.

Kyle pushed open the door. Kenny gasped.

**::::Next Time On Curls and Sissy Love Hoodie!**

_Kenny trembled, shocked, staring uncomfortably down into the coffee-colored eyes of his kneeling tormentor of times past. _

_"Please!" Tommy whined, pressing his lips against the blond's hand. "Please let me make it up to you!"_

_**O.o LoL! Kenny just attracts attention, doesn't he?**_

_**I want my reviews up to forty, please! Then I will return with kittens and ex-bullies and all sorts of... Dun dun dah... STOLEN THINGS! I just love you guys so much... I wasn't actually planning on posting this, but j00 r0x4rs!**_

_**(clears throat) … You rock.**_


	7. Chapter 4: A Challenger Approaches

**Chapter Four: A Challenger Approaches**

There were paint cans _everywhere_. Full, half gone, opened but unused, and every color you could possibly think of. There was a small folding table covered in paintbrushes, rags, and all manners of other things.

Kenny was rushing about, breathing in the paint fumes happily, running his fingers over the paint brushes, practically skipping in his joy. From within Kyle's arms, Stan smiled, leaning his head against the redhead's shoulder. He called to the elated blond, "We got leftover paint from almost everybody in South Park, and then we got lots of white so we can paint the walls and give you a nice, even canvas to work on."

Kenny trip-stumble-ran to them, pressing against them briefly in an armless hug before drawing back and announcing with a smile, "Nice? _Even_? This is _art_, Stanley. Get every shade of white you can find and put them in a pile. Off-white, pure white, almost-white, really-kinda-grey-white, all of it. Oh, and the palest blue you can find."

Seven shades of white. Ten variously-sized paint containers. One shade of lightest blue. Three paintbrushes.

Cue music.

_I said a 1, 2, 3 take my hand and come with me_  
_Because you look so fine that I really wanna make you mine_  
_I said you look so fine that I really wanna make you mine_  
_Oh, 4, 5, 6 c'mon and get your kicks_  
_Now you don't need that money when you look like that, do ya honey?_

Cue passionate singing.

_Big black boots_  
_Long brown hair_  
_She's so sweet_  
_With her get back stare_

Cue passionate dancing.

_Well I could see_  
_You home with me_  
_But you were with another man, yeah_  
_I know we ain't got, much to say_  
_Before I let you get away, yeah_  
_I said, "Are you gonna be my girl?"_

Cue passionate painting.

_It's 1, 2, 3 take my hand and come with me_  
_Because you look so fine that I really wanna make you mine_  
_I say you look so fine that I really wanna make you mine_  
_Oh, 4, 5, 6 c'mon and get your kicks_  
_Now you don't need that money with a face like that, do ya?_

_Big black boots_  
_Long brown hair_  
_She's so sweet_  
_With her get back stare_

_Well I could see_  
_You home with me_  
_But you were with another man, yeah_  
_I know we ain't got, much to say_  
_Before I let you get away, yeah_  
_I said, "Are you gonna be my girl?"_

_Oh yeah_  
_Oh yeah_  
_C'mon_

_I could see_  
_You home with me_  
_But you were with another man, yeah_  
_I know we, ain't got much to say_  
_Before I let you get away, yeah_  
_Uh, be my girl, be my girl_  
_Are you gonna be my girl? Yeah_

And so they danced and painted and laughed. Life was good. Too good.

...

Kenny was singing alone now, oblivious to the fact that his friends were just relaxing and watching him paint and dance.

"Early in the morning, risin' to the street.  
Light me up that cigarette and I'll strap shoes on my feet.  
Got to find the reason, the reason things went wrong;  
Got to find the reason why my money's all gone..!  
I got a Dalmatian, but I can still get high.  
I can play the guitar like a mother fuckin' riot!"

He had a nice voice, and apparently a decent parroting ability. He sounded just like Sublime.

"Life is too short, so love the one you got,  
'Cause you might get run over or you might get shot.  
Never start no static, I just get it off my chest.  
Never had to battle with a bulletproof vest.  
Take a small example, take a tip from me!  
Take all of your money, give it up to charity!"

He dips a brush in the pastel blue paint and splatters in across the wall with a grin, making dramatic gestures to accentuate the music. Stan grinned, an idea forming in his mind. He leaned over to whisper in his lover's ear.

"Love is what I got, it's within my reach.  
Yeah, and the sublime style's still straight from long beach.  
It all comes back to you, you'll finally get what you deserve.  
Try and test that, you're bound to get served.  
Love's what I got, don't start a riot;  
You'll feel it when the dance gets hot, _hot_..."

With whispered agreement and conditioning, the duo crept up behind the oblivious blond, positioning themselves strategically behind him, watching his hips sway with the music. As the chorus began, Kyle snatched Kenny firmly by the elbows, causing him to yelp and drop his paintbrush.

_Lovin' is what I got, I said remember that._

Kyle pressed himself almost harshly against his blond, rewrapping his arms around his skinny waist. Stan copied him in front of the blond, one hand stroking Kenny's hip, the other cradling the blond's beet-red cheek.

_Lovin' is what I got, remember that._

The couple were flush against the frozen blond. One of Kyle's hands was busy stroking his abdomen, the other comfortably splayed across his thin chest. The redhead winked at his boyfriend, pressing his lips against the blond's sensitive neck. Kenny spasmed slightly. Stan was so close, their lips inches apart.

_Lovin' is what I got, I said remember that._

"_Kenneth_." Kyle murmured in his ear, tongue flicking out teasingly. Stan's nose bumped his. Kenny trembled.

_Lovin' is what I got..._

Suddenly, or maybe not that suddenly, Stan's lips were on the blond's, moist and soft and warm and insistent. Time stood still. Kenny's eyes widened and relaxed closed, feeling safe and warm and loved and...

Stan started, hands still frozen in place comically, as he was roughly pushed away. He blinked blankly at the furious little blond, still poised to hold an invisible lover.

The blond ripped himself away from the equally-shocked redhead. He spun, pointing angrily at Kyle for a moment, jaw working, lips moving, no sound escaping. He turned on (still frozen) Stan, gave him the same treatment, and stomped away.

...

"Whoa, wait." Eric commanded, holding up his hand, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Kenny tightened his hold on JoJo, who seemed content enough to sit in her upset Hoodie's lap and appear worried as she glanced between the blond and her older brother.

"You're telling me..." the brunette gestured vaguely in the air, "That _Stan __**and**__ Kyle_... Kissed you."

The blond nodded. "Well, sorta. Kyle kinda just held me in place while Stan did." A blush was rising on his cheeks, but he didn't mind it.

"So they molested you." Kenny shook his head.

"No. They kissed me."

"Did you like it?"

This threw Kenny for a loop. He pondered for a moment. It _felt_ wonderful; complete; amazing... _hot_. But..!

"Mostly, I'm just pissed at them for cheating on each other." Kenny murmured slowly. Eric grinned bemusedly, clapping him on the shoulder. "You're nuts, Little Hood. If you'll excuse me, I need to take her to bed... You can sleep in my bed or the couch, your choice."

The baby made a distressed noise, clinging to the blond. "Hoodie, will you lay down with me?"

Glancing to Eric for permission, Kenny stood, smiling, and held her close, murmuring assent and smiling at the way her arms curled around his neck. With goodnight hugs from Sarah to her Bubby and Eric's last reassurances for Kenny, the blond duo, one gently rocking the other, made their way to the toddler's bedroom.

_It was snowing violently outside. The rough weather had delayed the doctor by an hour, but he was here now, so everything was fine._

_Eleven-year-old Kenny C. McCormick, after years spent dancing and conversing with death, had just witnessed the creation of life._

_The baby, the writhing, almost-unconscious Mrs. Lianne's baby, Fatass's precious baby sister, was lying freshly cleaned (though there were bloody crevices and stray marks), naked, and wailing in his arms. Panicked, Kenny nearly dropped it, but straightened out his act immediately. Carefully, he cradled the baby away from him, unzipping his parka and welcoming the newborn to cuddle close to his heart, sheathed in the warmth of his frail body and the fur lining the inside of his parka. The baby stopped wailing, instead sniffling and opening it's baby-blue eyes to stare blearily at it's savior. "Welcome to the world, Sarah Jo Cartman." the blond cooed, cradling her closer. Kenny could have sworn the baby smiled, but really, he was probably wrong. _

_Stan and Kyle, super best friends, were clutching each other's hands, faces ashen, still in shock from the birth. Eric was glaring at the bundle. Ike, who had tagged along this faithful night because Mrs. Broflovski made Kyle take him, snapped a picture with a small camera. Nobody noticed._

_"My... My baby?" Mrs. Lianne asked, uncertain, arms raised weakly to accept the infant. Rocking slightly, Kenny stepped close to the bed, gently placing the bundle into the arms of her mother._

Smiling at the fond memory, Kenny fell asleep almost instantly, cradling the furnace of wriggling heat nestled in his arms.

...

Monday at school, feeling awkward in Eric's too-big clothing,_ the_ Jacket buttoned up against the cold, our favorite blond walked, shivering, into the school gym, a dirty place with splintery, packed, ancient wooden bleachers, not looking forward to seeing his two best friends. A slight blush tinged his cheeks at the prospect, but he was distracted by a trembling ball of blue and blond shoving itself into his arms. Kenny looked down slightly at Butters, noting he was almost as tall as him now.

"K-k-Kenny, Awh, _jeez_, he's back!" Butters stammered, looking at Kenny in fear and concern and worry not directed at himself, but at the hoodied blond. Kenny gently grasped his wrists, ceasing the tap of his fists, and asked calmly, "Who's back, Butters?"

At that very moment, impossibly huge hands clasped onto my shoulders. I tensed, and Butters stumbled back with a small cry of fear.

_"Tommy!"_

**A/N Yes, the Tommy from the prologue and the interval (still can't remember the right word). Yes, I am really cutting it off here. How about that kiss? ... Was it written okay?**

**IMPORTANT NOTICE: I know I included a remorseful!Tommy in the sneak peak, but I'm just not sure. So, I'm asking you, my readers, because I don't care either way.**

_***********NICE TOMMY... OR EVIL TOMMY?********** Or A Mixture?  
**_

_**Review!**_


	8. Chapter 5: Breaking Things

_**I based the school off of my own. Basically, we have four periods one day (A-day, periods 1-4) and the other four the next day (B-day, periods 5-8). Then we have A-weeks, when Monday, Wednesday and Friday are A-days, and B-weeks, which are vice-versa. You get used to it. If anyone's curious, their mascot is the panther. (Panther Pride. Woo.)**_

**Noses and Vows; Not so Different**

Instantly, Kenny felt like like a tiny eighth grader again, faced with the humiliation of being beaten and molested by a seventh grader. Kenny tilted his head back, letting a disgruntled groan escape his lips.

Slowly, the hands shifted and turned him steadily, and soon Kenny had his head tilted all the way back to stare into the face of his tormentor. Silence raged for a moment.

"There is no goddamn _way_ you are fourteen."

Tommy thought this was hilarious, throwing his head back in uproarious laughter. He settled after a moment, smiling at his victim. "You haven't grown at all, my sweet little kitten. Still itty-bitty, defenseless, and hiding under a hood. _Tsk, tsk_..."

Tommy was a monster of a boy. He was easily taller than Kyle, though his the bulging-muscle thing he had going on as a thirteen year old had faded in favor of litheness. He'd grown out his dirty blond locks, tying them into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Kenny only cleared his elbow by a couple inches.

"Though..." he pondered, "You don't have the starved kitten on the streets look about you anymore. You've filled out. And your clothes aren't threadbare. What happened?"

Kenny was surprised to feel his fingers trembling. It was just that he could remember, remember his eyes darkened in lust, the feel of his body pressed against his own... It was raw. Even now, Tommy's hands shifted to encompass his hips, it felt... Familiar. Like rereading a horror novel you've read a dozen times before.

"So the greaser came back for more, eh?" Eric snarled from behind. Kenny wilted in relief, allowing himself to be pulled away from Tommy. The jock smiled almost pleasantly, falling into a one-knee kneel quickly to peck the blond on the nose, straightening just as quickly.

The coffee-eyed boy rolled his powerful shoulders, already turning from the duo. "Bob dies, you know."

Eric smirks. "I'm Randy."

"Touché, kid."

"Well," Kenny murmured sarcastically, "Since I'm the group-appointed baby, I must be Johnny."

Eric laughed. Tommy disappeared around a corner. Kenny relaxed, leaning against his best friend's shoulder. He moaned unhappily. "So my brain didn't make that up? He's seriously back?"

Eric clapped him on the shoulder. "'Fraid so, Johnny-cakes. 'fraid so."

Seemingly remembering that they were standing in the noisy, packed gym, they turned and ducked under the bleachers. Barely under cover, they paused. "You wanna tell 'em, or should I?" he questioned. Kenny grinned, already backing away.

"Ah, would I deprive you of watching the shit hit the fan?"

He was gone, just like that. Eric shook his head, amused. "No, I suppose you wouldn't."

...

Kyle was bright red in rage, straining against his boyfriend and his best friend. "Lemme go! Lemme go! I _told_ that bastard if he ever came back, I'd kill him! It's hardly been a year and a half! He needs to _die_!"

"Whoa, whoa, settle down!" Eric demanded, jabbing his thumb into a space beside his spine. Kyle's legs gave out, and he fell in a heap, glaring and spitting as he tried to regain control of his legs. "Calm down, Curls. He hasn't done anything yet... Well, besides scare the shit out of Hoodie... You'll be able to walk again in a minute or two." he added as an after thought. Kyle pouted, crossing his arms over his chest with a mutinous expression.

"Not true! He _touched_ Kenny!" he argued, giving up on trying to stand for the moment in favor of scowling at Eric.

"His shoulders and his hips. It's not that bad."

"He kissed him!" Stan added, looking torn between doing the sensible thing and tearing Tommy limb from limb.

"On the _nose_!" Eric groaned in exasperation.

Kyle was having none of it. At that moment, the bell rang for class. "Dammit, Eric, my legs still aren't working!"

Eric looked concerned for a moment. "Where did I jab you again?"

"To the left of my lower spine." Eric winced.

"Give it ten minutes."

"_Ten_- hey! Where do you two think you're going?"

Stan waved apologetically over his shoulder. "Class. See you third period!"

Kyle wasn't having a good day.

...

Kenny was not having a good day. It was an A-Day, so first he went to Algebra 2, where he struggled to keep up with the class. Next was Spanish. _No habla spaniel_. Then art and general music, which wouldn't have been bad at all, except for, well...

Kenny took his regular seat in the back of the classroom, immediately taking out his art supplies (waterpaints and colored pencils), and focusing on the front of the classroom, where Ms. Hart was writing the day's assignment on the board.

Kenny jumped when the chair next to him was pulled out, head snapping from the board to the monstrous teen beside him. Tommy smiled, pecking him on the top of the head before he had a chance to react. Quickly, he refocused his attention on removing his things from his backpack.

"How has your day been so far?" His voice was kind and genuinely curious. Kenny shifted uncomfortably.

"Math... Spanish..." he mumbled vaguely, leaning away instinctively. Tommy_ tsk_ed.

"Don't be like that. It's rude to avoid your friends, you know." Tommy smirked at him, and for an insane moment, Kenny was sure he was talking about Stan and Kyle.

"You're not my friend."

"Oh, but _you_ are _my_ friend."

"You are one creepy asshole, Tommy."

The jock let out a bark of laughter. "That's mean. You have next period with your little group. An hour and a half of sitting at a table with Kyle and Stan, who you seem to be fighting with, the soc, and me. Brilliant, isn't it?"

Kenny head-desked with a loud thud that caused Ms. Hart to look over with a concerned expression, eyes widening as she took in the presence of her favorite little painter's ex-bully.

Before she could do or say anything, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. She launched into her speech about an upcoming project, sending worried looks to the duo in the back of the class.

"Maybe I should skip." Kenny groaned, not moving when the class aid placed a sheet of paper on his head detailing the project.

"If you try, I'll carry you to class."

"I suppose you're gonna tag along during lunch? I'm the only one with second lunch in our group." he murmured disinterestedly. Tommy shook his head. "I have things to attend to."

"Like molesting blonds half your size?" Tommy's face fell. He didn't answer.

...

"What happened?"

Kenny, still shaking, tears streaming down his face, didn't meet Mr. Fisher's eyes as he began his explanation.

"Just a... Culmination of events." he murmured almost clinically. "You know about the fire. I'm terrified of fire, nowadays. I start shaking when I see it. I've been living with my friends. I guess that's... Part of the problem. They, Uh..."

Kenny blushed, wiping at his eyes with a choked laugh. "Stan and Kyle kissed me. Yes, both of them, at the same time, don't ask. That was yesterday. I walked out, haven't said a word to them since. Then, this morning, _TOMMY_ shows up..."

The blond pulled his knees to his chest, glancing shyly at the school counselor. "Yeah, Thomas Wise... I handled his paperwork this morning. Do you have a history with Tommy?"

He nodded. "Do I ever. About the same time I became a pacifist, he started bullying me, despite the fact that I was older. One day, out of curiosity, I guess, he pulled down my hood, told me I was pretty. You might remember the newspaper article about what happened next... Eric broke his nose, and his mother tried to sue the entire school district.

"Thats when things got bad. He st-started _touching_ me. I was afraid to tell anybody because he... If not me, it'd be somebody else, you know? Maybe the kind of person who would snap under the abuse. I'd rather he do _that_ to me than to some sweet little sixth grade girl or something..."

Mr. Fisher nodded. Kenny's tears started anew. "So, one day, K-kyle and Stan find out. They're furious at me, at each other, at Tommy, and at Token, for some reason nobody ever told me... Anyway, Kyle makes a deal with Tommy. If he leaves and doesn't come back, they won't kill him or tell the p-police.

"That was seventeen months ago. Tommy came back... He's been really weird. Almost friendly. He points out that my best friends, he, and I all have fourth period together. I say I'll skip. He says he'll make me go to class."

The counselor looked genuinely upset for Kenny. It made him smile waterily.

"After class, we have an argument about me going, and that..._ asshole_ actually _picks me up_ and _carries_ me to class. I have a thing about being p-picked up, so I was almost catatonic, clinging to him and m-muttering the Lord's prayer, begging him to put me down. We walk into class like this, late, and Kyle and him have a screaming match while St-stan helps me get my act together, and all of the sudden... It was just too much. I b-b-bust out crying, everyone freaks the fuck out, and I hightail it out of there. The last thing I hear is that creepy teacher laughing his a-ass off."

Kenny took a deep breath, pressing his face into his knees. Mr. Fisher looks pensive.

"Look, Ken, before I say anything else, I need you to know that if Tommy tries anything again, come straight here and I'll help you deal with it. I know you're a pacifist, but don't be afraid to punch him if he tries anything."

Kenny nods, tears finally beginning to slow.

"You need to distance yourself from Thomas. I'll see about switching him out of your classes, but in the meantime, keep yourself out of his range."

"O-okay. Alright."

"About this thing with Kyle and Stanley-"

"I kinda just want to be pissed at them for a couple days. Can we talk about it another time?"

"Of course, Kenneth. Of course."

At that moment, the bell rang, signaling the end of school. Smiling at the counselor, grimacing on the inside, Kenny stood, backpack slung over one shoulder. With a slight bow, he murmured, "Thank you very much Mr. Fisher."

"Anytime, kid."

...

Kenny decided to take the back way home; in the tree line. Ducking out of the back exit to the school, he sighed in relief. No bullies, no friends, just a stranger or t-

"Why, hello, kitten." Kenny nearly jumped out of his skin, twisting to put Tommy in front of him. Painfully aware that his eyes were still red and raw from crying, the little blond ducked his head, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "What do you want, Tommy?"

"Just decided I might walk you home."

Kenny wilted, finally seeing the flaw in his planning. Obviously, can't go to Kyle's or Stan's, Eric would probably make him go talk to the couple, Butters' parents hate him...

"Don't got a home at the moment." he replied finally, staring at the ground.

"Well, come on, then. You can meet my granny." Tommy offered, already walking away. Kenny shivered, watching the first flakes of a new snow begin to fall.

_Sure beats the alternatives._

...

Granny, as the woman insisted he call her, was very kindly, immediately offering Kenny a mug of hot chocolate to warm up. Accepting, the blond's eyes began roaming the home, taking in the nik-naks, children's artwork, family photos that evolved from a grainy black and white to sepia to modern color. The furniture was old and mismatched, and looked ridiculously comfortable and inviting. Several hand-made quilts were folded across the backs of chairs and couches. It was a very cozy place.

Tommy, declining hot chocolate, tea, and coffee, left to go take a shower, leaving the house guest and his grandmother to sit in a silence that was no where near as awkward as it seems like it should be.

"I'm sorry to hear about your house, young man." she murmured busily, voice softened from age. Kenny nodded, "That's actually why I'm here. I'm fighting with the people I've been staying with."

"Do you need to stay here tonight?" No-nonsense, no questions asked. Kenny was beginning to like this woman.

"If its not too much trouble, ma'am."

"Please, son, call me Granny. Are you and Tommy friends?"

Kenny snorted out a laugh. "No, you couldn't call us friends. Not at all. You wanna know the absolute truth, ma-Granny?"

The woman put down her cleaning rag and looked the little blond eye. "Yes, I do, if you don't mind a little story telling."

"Well... I'm the reason he had to leave for a year and a half. My friends found out the nature of his bullying and gave him a choice; leave or get arrested for sexual harassment."

The woman blinked at his bluntness (to be honest, Kenny was startled as well), but didn't seem overly-surprised.

There was a long silence. "Tommy... Is a troubled child. There are reasons he lives with me, and not his father. There's a reason he went to his aunt instead of his parents this past year. He's been going to therapy. I think... I think he's trying to make it up to you, kitten. Thats no excuse, of course, and I'm not defending him. You shouldn't have had to deal with such a thing..."

Kenny blinked, muling over this information curiously. Instead of asking, though, he commented, "He calls me kitten, too."

Granny smiled. "You remind me of a kitten I had as a child. It was bright orange and yellow and black; quite a skittish little oddity. He adored catnip... And had a nasty habit of bringing live birds into the house. Sweetest thing I ever did see, though. Just precious."

Kenny smiled, sipping at his cooling mug of hot chocolate. "This is wonderful, by the way."

"Never underestimate the power of home-made mix. Anyway, get on your homework, kitten."

"Yes, Granny, ma'am."

...

Finishing the character analysis sheet, Kenny leaned back, shaking his cramped-up writing hand and popping his back loudly. "All done." he murmured to himself.

He began putting things away, stuffing binders and notebooks into his beaten-down backpack. Suddenly, something slid through his hair, across his scalp. A click was heard, and an odd weight settled on the top right of his head. The process repeated on the left side.

Tommy positively _squealed_. "Found them!"

"Found _what_?" Kenny demanded, running his hands over the furry, protruding objects. Suddenly, his eyes widened in disbelief.

"You didn't."

Granny looked up and busted out laughing at the little blond, wordlessly gesturing to the mirror off to his right.

With a groan, Kenny took in the big, furry, blond cat ears clipped into his hair. Scowling, he turned back to his hosts, glare growing when he saw them clinging to each other and pointing at him in useless mockery.

"_Merrrrow_!" he hissed dangerously, hiding an inward smile.

...

The house was peaceful in the night. Quiet, calm, safe. Curled up under a homemade quilt, cuddled into a couch that was, as he'd thought, ridiculously comfortable, Kenny sighed, thinking about Tommy and his grandmother. He tensed when he heard footsteps approaching him carefully.

Hesitant fingers made contact with his cheek, and it took everything in him not to react. There was a shuffle, and suddenly, someone's warm breath was hitting his face.

"I'm so, so sorry, my sweet little kitten. So sorry."

Gentle, warm lips pressed against his. Kenny's eyes snapped open, meeting familiar, shocked coffee irises, fury building in his heart. With a violent thud of impact, Kenny broke his vow and Tommy's nose. And dammit, it felt _fan-fucking-tastic_.

_**Whew! Emotionally charged, there! I hope I executed Tommy well. Sort of a big, creepy, stalkerish sweetheart. Um... If ain't askin' too much... Could I have, like... Ten reviews, and I'll throw in a short about what Kenny was describing to Mr. Fisher? The crying-thing? I actually wrote it, but my stupid phone lost the scene...**_

_**REVIEW!**_


	9. Chapter 6: This is so Gay

Lime ahead, be warned.

**Chapter Six: This Is So Gay**

"Wha do you peoble _inbist_ on breakang my nobe?" Tommy slurred, hand clasped to his gushing nose, choking slightly on blood. Kenny didn't respond, staring at his clenched fist, transfixed. He was standing, but he didn't remember getting up. Shoulders shaking, he pointed a trembling finger at the jock, jaw working furiously. Finally, an angry noise escaped. Seemingly satisfied, the blond stomped out of the house, into the snow, wearing nothing more than one sock, a pair of boxers, one of Tommy's T-shirts, and cat ears he'd forgotten about hours ago.

...

Crying. Quiet sobs heard through the thin wall between Kyle's room and Ike's. Shuddering sighs and tiny wails and mewls of distress. Kyle's eyes shot straight open, heard cocked to listen. Stan woke more slowly, snuggling into his shirtless boyfriend, hands trailing up and down his sides.

"I wonder if it's serious." the redhead pondered, tightening his arms around his best friend's shoulders. Ike often cried at night; he was having peer trouble at school. Stan yawned, sitting up. "You realize that's not Ike, don't you?"

Kyle frowned, listening to the shakiness of the noise, the helpless tone to it. Ike's crying was softer, more controlled. "There's somebody in my brother's room." he mumbled in confusion. Stan tensed.

"Dude, Kyle! That's _Kenny_!"

...

Ike was never good with these things. He had been confused when he looked up from his late-night, insomnia induced reading to see the shivering, under dressed Kenny tapping on his window, leaning precariously from the tree in their backyard. He let him in quickly, rushing about to wrap a blanket around him, not speaking.

It was a moment after Ike sat on the bed that the blank blond snapped, flinging himself at the nine-year-old in tears.

The raven was somewhat uncomfortable, pressed against the headboard by the only four-inches-taller-now boy he thought of as an older brother, the blond seated, facing him, in-between his legs, clinging to the front of his shirt and sobbing helplessly. Ike's hands hovered awkwardly over his back for a moment, before pressing against Kenny's spine and rubbing up and down. He wrapped his other arm around his waist and leaned back, resting his head on the cool wood and murmuring nonsense.

Ike watched the door expectantly, waiting for his older brother and Stan to take away their love.

He told himself he wasn't jealous.

...

Ike wasn't disappointed. The redhead opened the door, poking his head in and staring at the pair for a moment before entering, followed by a worried Stan.

Squeezing Kenny briefly, he allowed the blond to be taken into the redhead's arms, smiling at the way Kenny clung to him, like a lifesaver. Ike watched the desperate way the blond gripped his older brother, the needy way he stared after Stan as he was carried away. Said brunette stopped to hug Ike, kissing him on the forehead and hurriedly tucking him in with a quiet, "Thanks, Ike. I love you, little guy... Sleep well."

He hurried out of the room after the two people he was so obviously in love with, and Ike felt his own eyes prick with tears.

Not jealous at all.

Really.

...

Surrounded by arms, sat in two laps at once (he wasn't sure how), finally warm and sobbing harshly, hands stroking his sides, chest, back, thighs, face, hair, neck, two pairs of lips dancing across his neck and face and shoulders, Kenny finally was able to calm down enough to force out his story.

"I din't wanna come h-here, a-an' I ran into T-T-Tommy and he said I could St-stay with him. But then he k-k-kissed me and I broke his nose!" he wailed. Despite himself, Kyle chuckled in his ear, storing his rage for later.

"Oh, honey." Stan cooed, stroking his face.

"Stan..." Kyle trailed off, wiping away stray tears with a mildly panicked expression. "Stan, I don't understand why he's crying. Why are you crying? Why is he crying?"

Kenny shot him a tear-filled glare, breaking down into fresh sobs. Stan slapped him on the back of the head, resuming his petting of the little blond.

"First and foremost, _Kyle_, I'm pretty sure he's upset about breaking his vows and violating his beliefs. Second, he's pissed at Tommy, and at us, and at everything else. He probably got overwhelmed."

Kenny began rubbing his eyes with the back of his sleeves, nodding slightly in agreement. Kyle still looked confused, but resumed stroking his little blond kitte-

"Kenny, you have cat ears."

All movement stilled. Kenny reached up to feel his hair, the soft locks interrupted by realistic clip on cat ears. With a weird half-sob, half-maniac laugh, Kenny started crying again, big fat tears rolling silently down his face. He looked pathetically up at Stan, in front of him, then twisted to look at Kyle.

"I'm pissed at you." he mumbled, slapping Stan half-heartedly on the arm.

Kyle pressed a kiss to Kenny's shoulder. "Why, honey? What did we _do_?"

"You cheated on each other."

Silence.

Stan sounded on the edge of hysteria. "What?"

"You guys," he rubbed at his eyes, sniffling, trying to make the tears stop coming, "Have the m-most amazing, wonderful relationship, an', an', you just decided to... _cheat_!"

Kyle stared at Stan. Stan stared at Kyle.

"... Did you cheat on me?"

"No. Did _you_ cheat on _me_?"

"No. Do you know what he's talking about?"

"Haven't a clue."

"You were _RIGHT THERE_!" Kenny screeched, head whipping back and forth to try and look them both in the eye, tears renewing angrily.

All he got were blank stares. Finally, it clicked with Stan. Under other circumstances, it might of made Kenny laugh; it was like watching a light flick on.

"Do you mean... You think I cheated on Kyle... With _you_. When I kissed you."

Kenny blushed, stammering, slightly afraid when he felt Kyle's grip tighten dangerously on his hip and shoulder. With an uneasy scowl, he nodded. "O-of course. What else would it mean?"

The bigger boys exchanged a bemused glance.

Kyle sounded almost hesitant. "How do you think I cheated on Stan?"

"You were fr-freaking _molesting_ me... You cheating sonuvabitch."

"So, wait." Stan cut in. "The only problem you have with this is that we cheated on each other."

Kenny nodded, blushing, tears finally slowing to a stop. "It was kinda gay..." he mumbled, "But it... Felt... I didn't really..."

He didn't seem inclined to finish.

Silence reigned for a moment. Finally, Kyle stated bemusedly, "He thinks we cheated on each other."

"He does."

"He's a motherfucking idiot."

"He is."

"Hey, I'm not an-_ummph_!"

Kyle, apparently, had had quite enough of his nonsense. Years from now, Ike would ask what Kenny's first kiss with Kyle was like in three words. The words he was destined to chose?

1. Violent.

2. Terrifying.

3. _Hot as all motherfucking hell_. (Yes, that's one word.)

Bruising force applied to sensitive, fragile skin, lips tearing at each other, an invasive tongue forcefully violating his mouth, the hot organ swirling around his own, making him writhe and shudder.

With a sudden, sharp bite to his lower lip, one that made Kenny yelp and bleed, the redhead pulled back, devouring his neck, making him moan when he applied pressure to certain areas, biting and licking and sucking. There was a lust in Stan eyes as he leaned forward, eyes falling half-lidded, gently licking away the blood and kissing him in a tender way that made the blond swoon, feeling ridiculous, like a little girl.

Pulling back and coaxing Kyle to do the same, the brunette connected his lips with that of his boyfriend of two years. Calmed somewhat, Kyle began feathering kisses up and down the smooth column of pale skin exposed to him, eyes fixed on the blond's, challenging and a bit angry. Stan smiled, leaning intoxicatingly close to the shell-shocked, abused blond.

"Honey, does this look like cheating to you?"

Suddenly, the blond was nervous. In his mind, he was screaming and ranting and raving, but outwardly, he turned bright red and stumbled back, shaking his head and wriggling away from his two best friends. Kyle, fueled by dozens of cold showers and sorrowful nights spent with Stan (nights when something in the back of his head told him Kenny should be there too, seeing the sentiment reflected in the brunette's eyes), pinned the poor, terrified little blond to the bed, hovering over him, pinning his wrists above his head with one large hand.

"Kenneth." he whispered dangerously. "Where do you think you're going?"

The blond squirmed, glancing at Stan, who seemed content to watch with a satisfied smirk.

"Answer me."

"I, Uh, I dunno..."

"I do. No-where. You're gonna stay _right _here."

Stan snorted, leaning forward to stage-whisper conspiratorially, "He gets this way sometimes."

With a baleful glare directed at his boyfriend, Kyle began nipping and sucking on the blond's neck, ignoring the plaintiff whimpers and struggling. With another rough, searing kiss, the redhead rumbled, "Dammit, Kenny, you dumbass redneck. I thought we_ seriously_ screwed up. But_ noooo._.. You're just a moron."

Anger flashing in his eyes, he ground his hips down onto the little blond's. Kenny threw his head back with a moan, and Kyle let out a satisfied grunt. Unsure and overwhelmed, biting his abused lip to keep potential sound from escaping, Kenny glanced again at Stan, who grinned lazily, cheeks flushed in arousal.

The redhead scowled, apparently upset at the blond's attention being divided. Leaning forward and stilling, he bit the nerve-wracked blond's ear, licking at it pensively. "Give me one good reason, _Kenneth Christian McCormick_, why I... Why _we_ shouldn't fuck you into the mattress, make you beg and moan and scream for us? _Hmmm_?"

The words went straight to his cock and Kenny moaned wantonly, writhing, though whether to feel more or to get away, he didn't know anymore, and Stan's lips were on his and someone was touching him _there_, just barely, and-

"Because, Bro, these walls are super-thin, and I don't think you want me listening." Ike's voice filtered through the walls, muffled but coherent.

Kyle's eyes went wide and blank. Kenny could _feel_ the larger boy's need die a swift, humiliated death. Stan, removing his lips from the shell-shocked blond and his hands from his chest and the front of his pants, snorted, then began to giggle, and soon collapsed into silly, nonsensical laughter.

Kyle fell over, off of the blond, falling still and blank and unblinking, letting go of his wrists in the process. After a moment, Kenny moaned, "This intense humiliation has disrupted my soul. Turn off the moon, my heart must remain shaded," throwing his arm across his eyes with a whimper.

Calming down, Stan dragged the limp blond up to the pillows to snuggle with him. "Hey, now, Goth is my thing."

"Not goth. Emo."

"Cheer up, Emo Kid."

Stan was a cuddler. He'll cuddle with anything with a heartbeat. Kenny could remember the countless times, even before they got together, that he walked into one bedroom or another and saw the super-best-friends cuddling like kittens.

Kenny was always mildly ashamed to recognize the accompanying emotion on these encounters as jealousy.

Kenny still felt awkward and restless, despite longing to be like this (y'know, loved), his head resting on Stan's shoulder, the brunette's arm wrapped around the blond's waist, stroking the juncture between his leg and his abdomen, making him twitch. They watched the coma-victim-esque Kyle in silence for a long moment, wondering how he managed to go so long without blinking.

Finally, the redhead jerked, a violent shudder ripping down his spine, and his face went redder than his hair, all in a heartbeat.

He whimpered, the tough guy act from earlier long gone. He collapsed, groaning, and muttered, "My brother heard me talking like a Dominator from a bad porn scene. God, are you punishing me for trying to rape Kenny? If so, I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive me."

"Isn't it funny..." Stan trailed off, "Isn't it funny that I don't have a defined religion, you're Jewish, and Kenny is hardcore Christian, and we're _still_ here, having gay threesome sex before marriage?"

After several moments of contemplative silence, Kenny clasped his hands together, staring steadfastly at the ceiling. "God, I know you don't hate homos, 'cause if you did, you wouldn't make our brains work like that. I believe in you, don't worry. I'm sorry for committing adulterary... Adultrary... Doing this stuff with somebody other than my husband or wife, but since I can't get married in this state at the moment, that's kinda null anyway."

Seemingly forgetting that he was being watched, the little blond continued, "Anyway, thanks for all the regular stuff... My friends, new and old, for keeping my sister and brother sustained down in the big apple, for, well, everything, I guess. I have a lot to be thankful for."

Sliding his eyes closed, he finished in a murmur, "And keep my mama and dad safe. If... If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to see them sometime soon. I miss my family. I miss you, too, but... Y'know." he trailed of, awkward even in supposedly private prayer.

"_Amen_."

He looked relaxed, at peace... somewhat. Theres was still a faint tint of worry to his features.

"I didn't know you prayed like that, Kenny."

The blond jerked, uncensored shock and surprise registering on his rapidly reddening face.

"Dammit, guys, I forgot you were there!" he whined, adding as an afterthought after a pause, "And, really, you _shouldn't_ know. Generally, around other people, I pray in my head."

Kyle, blush finally receding, slipped under the covers on Kenny's other side, slipping an arm around the blond's waist, murmuring, "What do you mean when you say you miss God?"

Inwardly berating himself for letting something slip (he hadn't died in months. He was loosing his touch), he half-lied smoothly, "I haven't been to church since the fire."

Stan glanced at him, confused. "But you take off every Sunday for an hour."

"I always end up walking right on by. I just can't bring myself to go, I guess." he smiled crookedly, trying to convey that there was nothing wrong.

Kyle tightened his grip. "You're going this Sunday."

"Wait, what-"

"I'll even come with you."

Kenny let his protests die on his lips, smiling softly at the sweet expression on the redhead's face. Stan kissed him on the cheek, murmuring that he'd come along as well. "Okay."

After several long minutes of semi-awkward silence, Kenny spoke again, sounding somewhat bemused.

"This is so gay."

Suppressing a silly grin, Stan replied seriously, "Indeed, it is rather homosexual," sending Kyle into a quiet bout of laughter.

Silence stretched again once the laughter subsided. This time, Kyle broke it, oh-so elegantly.

"So, should we like, I dunno, _talk_ about this or something?"

Kenny blushed somewhat, looking to Stan for an answer. The brunette looked thoughtful. "Well, probably. I mean, it would make sense to talk about what we expect out of our gay threesome relationship before we just recklessly dive in..." Kenny groaned, shifting away from him, and, through happenstance, into Kyle's waiting arms. The redhead smirked at the brunette. "He likes me better."

"Nuh-Uh, I'm the favorite!" Stan protested, pulling the poor exhausted little blond back against his chest, only to be tugged back again by Kyle.

"_Eep_! Guys, guys, quit it, _ouch_. Can we, Uh, talk about _this_," he gestured vaguely at the three of them, "Tomorrow? I'm exhausted."

The larger two paused, relaxing into their charge. "Sure." Kyle murmured against his ear, making him squirm.

Stan kissed each of them on the forehead quickly, lying back down and murmuring, "Goodnight, Kyle. Goodnight, Kenny."

"Goodnight, Stan. Goodnight, Kenny."

"Goodnight, you stupid dorks."

**So that's it then. (I didn't mean to make Ike so pathetic and Angstas!) {ohes noes, i rapsed you...}**

**I'm thinking about ending the story here... I've got terrible writer's block. Sorry I didn't write the promised scene; I'm working on my first smut for my friend's birthday, to go up on Tuesday. Check for it... It's K2. **

**As always, I'd _adore_ some review-action. It could be life and death... Of this story, anyway. XD**

**Oh, and if I end up continuing... Yes, I do intend to bring in the promised kitten. **

**P.S. I'm really unhappy with my lime scene. Advice?**


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